


Galahad me at Hello

by 4vrAFangirl



Series: Not Your Average Fairytale [1]
Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: M/M, Renaissance Faires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-15
Updated: 2016-01-15
Packaged: 2018-05-14 04:42:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5729908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/4vrAFangirl/pseuds/4vrAFangirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eggsy Unwin has never been to a Renaissance fair before, but ever since little Dais' had seen the poster at the coffee shop around the corner from their new flat and made her big brother explain what it was, she's been begging to go. And with everything that they've been through lately in finally getting away from Eggsy’s abusive stepfather and his crew, it doesn’t seem like an entirely terribly idea. But this crush he's developing on one of the "knights" definitely is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Galahad me at Hello

**Author's Note:**

> For [ Nobleepingspaces](http://nobleepingspaces.tumblr.com) on Tumblr. Inspired by her post [ here ](http://nobleepingspaces.tumblr.com/post/136029309859/au-where-kingsman-is-actually-a-highly-immersive) I didn't quite get into all the other Kingsman at this point, but if it helps I've already started brainstorming and drafting ideas for a part II to this story, because I just can't help myself. Apologies for the title, again I couldn't help myself.
> 
> Want a peek behind the scenes of writing these stories? Got a prompt or idea for a fic you'd like to see? Drop me a note on my Tumblr: [afangirlreadsfics](http://www.afangirlreadsfics.tumblr.com)

Eggsy Unwin has never been to a Renaissance fair before, but ever since little Dais' had seen the poster at the coffee shop around the corner from their new flat and made her big brother explain what it was, she's been begging to go. And with everything that they've been through lately in finally getting away from Eggsy’s abusive stepfather and his crew, it doesn’t seem like an entirely terribly idea. Not that Daisy fully understands all of course, besides that her daddy had to go away and their new place has less furniture, but more importantly less shouting. But change can be difficult on anyone though, even a bright and resilient young girl like his flower, and Eggsy knows while she hasn't actually asked for it yet, his mom could probably use the break.

So he saves up the wages he makes at the little flower shop he's started working at until he's scraped together enough to buy Daisy a right proper little princess dress, and himself a far simpler and cheaper costume of the appropriate period for their field trip to another time. 

He feels like an idiot putting his costume on. Looks like one too. Unlike Daisy's costume looks nearly tailor made for her. There had never been any question the little girl would wear the dress again and again, so her big brother had spent far more time finding and money on buying her dress than his own. Eggsy's costume is generic, cheap, and drapes loosely ill-fitting and completely unflattering over his body, a simple squire outfit according to its packaging. But the happy, excited sound his little sister makes and her beaming smile the entire ride on the bus out of town, well it almost makes the stares from their fellow passengers worth it.

There's been far too few smiles and happy moments like this in Daisy's life so far, and Eggsy being the loving and protective big brother that he is, is bound and determined to do whatever it takes to rectify that. Even if it means looking like an idiot while she drags him around some sort of fair for adults to dress up and play pretend on a weekend. 

Eggsy hadn't thought it was possible to feel any more ridiculous than sitting the long bus ride out of the city, but he was wrong. For all that he couldn't quite wrap his mind around the concept; he's the one that is out of place once they make their way to the gate to pay for their tickets. All around them people are dressed in fancy period-piece wear, most clearly hand-made, or at the very least far more expensive and thought out than his own attire. Much better fitted too. Eggsy is forcibly reminded of the first Halloween after his Da’ passed when he’d had to go to school in a sheet with holes cut out for eyes, because they hadn’t had the money for a proper costume.

There is no way, Eggsy thinks a bit bitterly, that this many people would all have been the royalty and wealthy they are dressed as for the event. He recalls just enough of history to know there ought to be more dressed like him- squires, serfs, and peasants. But nobody wants to pretend to be, or associate themselves with the royal stable cleaner or anything. But Eggsy tucks away any insecurity and hides his scowl, as Daisy excitedly squeals and points out a small petting zoo, as long as she's happy Eggsy is more than willing to make the best of it.

It's not all bad though, if Eggsy is honest with himself. The food is actually pretty good, well most of it; maybe not some of the authentic 'bread' they had, but the giant turkey leg was awesome. And he spent a fair amount of time talking to the vendor of a small stall selling various plants, herbs, and flowers the shop he works at might look into stocking, before buying an assortment of wildflowers and greens and building Daisy a small crown.

By mid-afternoons a flagging Daisy is ready for a nap. Eggsy finds them a quiet spot under a tree for some shade and a place to rest, and busies himself with looking up and rereading some of the myths and legends of the time period he and his sister are immersed in. He finds that he actually remembers a few of them from stories his father liked to tell him when he was young, and decides he will have to look for a book about them so he can continue the tradition with Daisy.

She's just waking up as a passerby announces to the undulating crowds at large that the tournament will be starting in 20 minutes, and those interested should make their way to the stands for a good seat. Eggsy isn't quite sure whether or not it might be too scary for Daisy, but there do seem to be other young children headed in that direction, and it being an event open to all ages, he figures it can't be that bad. If in fact it proves too much, he reasons, they can simply leave. Daisy is thrilled with any idea where she might get to see more horses. Eggsy supposes he might have guessed as much; knights fighting for pretty princesses are a staple of some of her favorite bedtime stories and fairytales.

The first event turns out to be archery, which while the shooters are impressively skilled, isn't quite enough to hold either sibling's attention. But Eggsy supposes that at least they managed to get front row seats for when they get back from Daisy's inevitable bathroom break 10 minutes after sitting down. The sword-fighting and jousting sound a good deal more interesting.

They take a wrong turn to make way for a passing group of musicians headed the other way, and wind up behind the scenes of it all in their route to finding their seats again, and are greeted by several men dressed in full suits of armor. Eggsy had almost thought them to be decorative statues of some sort until one of them laughed, waving off the other knights headed out towards the pit to remove some of the archery targets and make way for the next event. Said knight, strode slowly, purposefully over to the nearest horse and gently removed his helmet so the animal could see his face, then a gauntlet to better stroke along her neck.

He gorgeous, Eggsy thinks, drawing in a shallow breath. Dark brown hair, which he's obviously done his utmost to keep flat and style has gone slightly curly at his temples where his helmet's caused him to sweat the most. Long, lithe fingers curl through the horse's mane, and pat the animal down. Crows-feet at the corners of his eyes and the slight quirk of his lips belying how contented and happy he is in his current situation, and only serving to further draw the young man in. Logically of course Eggsy knows that the man is wearing a suit of armor and could look like just about anything underneath, but he's got a good sense from the little he can see this man's well fit. At the very least, armor or no, the man clearly has legs that go on for miles. Eggsy’s own hands twitch a little, fingers itching to touch.

"Can I pet 'im," Daisy asks loudly, drawing his attention before Eggsy has completely regained his composure.

"Dais'," Eggsy hisses, embarrassed. "We ain't supposed to be back 'ere. We need 'ta go back, find our seats."

"Pwease," she adds sweetly, looking between Eggsy and the knight, seeming to think her failure to observe proper manners must be why her request is being denied.

The man is removing his other gauntlet and gently setting it aside, before approaching the pair of them, with a patient, handsome smile. "It's alright," he offers up kindly. "My event isn't for a while yet, and I'm sure Pickles wouldn't mind the attention."

"Your horse's name is Pickles," Eggsy ask incredulously before he can stop himself, for lack of the ability to find anything more intelligent to say, internally kicking himself.

"Mr. Pickles," Harry nods, and God, that has to be the stupidest name that Eggsy has ever heard, but he's still undeniably charmed by the older man in front of them both, even if he is shite at naming things. "Sir Pickles for today, I suppose," he adds with a thoughtful smile.

"And who might you be milady," he asks, stooping down to Daisy's level with another kind smile.

Thing is, Eggsy has been fooled by kind smiles before. He and his mum both, and he didn't walk away from it all unscathed, far from it in fact, but he didn't walk away without learning a thing or two either. Eggsy's bullshit detector is a damn fine one, and he's every bit as hyper-vigilant as any good big brother should be. Daisy will never know or see the kind of things he did growing up with Dean, or know that kind of pain if he has anything to say about it. So yeah, maybe he's just met this guy, but his gut says that he can trust him, that he'd just as soon hurt anyone who threatens this little girl as Eggsy would. And if that’s an accurate read, then he definitely likes this guy.

"Dais-y," Eggsy's little princess replies sweetly, twisting her hips back and forth a little on the spot and watching the hem of her dress twirl about her legs the way she always does when she's nervously warming up to someone new.

"Well then my Lady Daisy, I would be happy to introduce you to my horse, if your guardian doesn't mind," he offers politely.

"Egg-y, what's that, a- a-" Daisy frowns, screwing up her face, trying to both recall and pronounce the new word.

"A guardian, luv," Eggsy replies patiently. "It means someone who looks after and takes care ‘a you."

"Oh," she nods. "Egg-y is good at that. He's a a good big bruv'r," Daisy smiles brightly. Sneaky little bugger, she’s buttering him up, Eggsy thinks, half-proud. "Can I pet the horsey, Egg-y? Pwease?"

"Yea, alrigh' I reckon you can if-" he hesitates realizing he doesn't have the other man's name yet.

"Sir Galahad," he offers with a mock bow to them both. "A pleasure to make your acquaintance,” he continues.

"Eggsy," the young man jumps in, before the knight can address him properly. Daisy is the only one that's allowed to get away with calling him ‘egg-y.’

"A pleasure to meet you Eggsy," he smiles, leading the way over to his horse, carefully instructing Daisy about how to approach him so as not to spook the animal, and how he likes to be touched.

Eggsy wants to ask what the man's name is when he isn't partaking in Renaissance fair tournaments, but can't think of any good or natural way to bring it up. For all his confidence and charm- or at least the facade of it- back home, none of his usual lines or tactics are going to work here, and certainly not with this man who's either hellbent on staying in character, or is actually this much of a gentleman on his days off too. Eggsy isn't sure which is worse. Either way doesn’t seem particularly promising for a pleb like himself. 

Sure, he knows how to work his age and bat his lashes, flash his puppy-dog eyes, knows posh men and women alike often like a bit ‘a rough, but this guy seems like the real deal. Not just some bloke with a load of cash putting on pretenses of gentility so he can feel superior. A guy, a gentleman, like that isn’t likely to be looking for just another roll in the sack with someone; won’t be enticed simply by the possibility of Eggsy’s youth making him feel in charge and powerful, or even young again. So Eggsy does his best to resign himself to simply enjoying the moment, memorize all that he can of this ‘Galahad.’

It goes completely against the romanticized idea behind this whole fair, of course, and even the idea that the knight is the gentleman he seems to be, but Eggsy is only human. He’s not even trying to be subtle about oogling him anymore while the older man is talking to his little sister. He figures he might at least be able to get some good wank material out of all of this if nothing else.

It’s almost time for Galahad to go out for the jousting event, and well past time for Eggsy and Daisy to go back to their seats, when the little girl suddenly looks pensive, frowning.

“Woss ‘a matter, flower,” Eggsy asks, as they take a few steps back for the knight to prepare himself and his horse, stooping down to her level.

“I want ‘im to win,” the young girl says plaintively, glancing back at where the knight and horse are getting ready.

“Well, who says that he won’t,” he asks, a bit confused by why Daisy is suddenly so upset.

“But he doesn’t have a- a flavor,” she insists looking worried. “In the story, you said princesses give them to the knight they want to win.”

“A favor,” Eggsy corrects with dawning comprehension, as Harry approaches the pair of them on Mr. Pickles, heading out to the arena to compete. Eggsy’s heart sinks, if he’d taken his own costume even half as seriously as Daisy’s he probably would have had a handkerchief or something that he might give the knight to appease his lil’ flower, but he’s at a loss, until nervous fingers reach up to smooth over his father’s medal out of habit.

“Galahad,” he calls after the man, running up to the knight and his horse, just before he’s out of bounds. “Um, look I know ‘ya gotta get out there, but maybe you could wear this? –Just for your event- if it ain’t too much trouble to get it back to me after… I don’t have any handkerchief or nothin’ to give you, and Daisy wanted you to give you a favor for luck,” he stumbles, pulling the medal off from around his neck and offering it up to him.

The older man accepts it with a look of astonishment, and something Eggsy thinks looks like recognition when he’s turning over the medal in his hand, although he doesn’t have the first idea how that could be. But they’re blowing the horn to call all the jouster’s to the field and there’s no time to really ask or talk about it, so the knight nods, pulling the chain over his own head and tucking it into his armor. “Thank you Eggsy, and thank your sister for me. I’ll be certain to take good care of it.”

“You like ‘im,” Daisy beams as Eggsy returns and takes her hand to lead her back to their seats.

“ ‘Course I do, he was nice to my princess, wasn’t he,” Eggsy smiles back.

Daisy shakes her head. “Not like that,” she insists. “Like in the stories. Like mummy’s shows,” she continues.

“Mummy shouldn’t let you watch that garbage,” Eggsy mumbles, _mum and her ridiculous soaps._ “What about the stories, Flower,” he prompts curious.

“You want to kiss him,” Daisy replies simply, turning her attention back to the event as Galahad and Mr. Pickles circle around the arena once for the crowd while his competitor does the same.

Eggsy doesn’t reply, but it would hardly matter if he had any idea what to say in his defense anyway with the young girl’s already turned her attention to other things. And there isn’t anything to be said in his defense anyway. She’s not wrong. Galahad has his helmet back on now, but Eggsy’s seen the handsome face that’s hidden underneath it, the way those hands that now fiercely grip his lance and Mr. Pickles reigns can also be tender. He wants to snog the hell out of him, climb the man like a tree. He wants to find out what it takes to wreck those perfect manners and the man’s composure. But now is **definitely** not the time to be thinking about any of that.

So Eggsy does his best to busy himself with watching the event for what it is, rather than fantasizing about what he and this ‘Galahad’ bloke could be. He sits on the edge of his seat to watch, fists clenching a little in sympathy any time an opponent lands a blow. The armor must protect him from too much damage, but it seems to him they still must hurt or at the very least bruise a little. It’s a strange thing to put oneself through, but when Galahad manages to unseat one of his competitors and the crowd fills with cheers, he supposes he can see a little of the appeal. He figures it must be something like the kind of rush Eggsy used to get at his gymnastic meets, before Dean had forbid and prevented him participating in them anymore. He could go back to them now, he supposes, but he’s probably getting a bit old to be competing. Maybe, he considers for a moment, he could get into something like this. He’s not sure what kind of knight that he would be, but there had been plenty of vendors selling flowers and the like, maybe once he saves a bit he could finally get his own shop like he’s thought about, and it seems likely with the kind of dedication and costume Galahad has, this is a regular thing for him… How often do they host events like these anyway…?

Daisy is suddenly on her feet and the crowd around Eggsy is cheering, and he realizes with a slight twinge of guilt and more than a little disappointment that he’s missed Galahad’s last run, and final decisive blow that secured his victory. Now they definitely need to come back to another one of these, he thinks, as he lifts an excitedly squealing Daisy up onto his shoulders so she can see over the heads of the people in front of them. Galahad is doing a lap around the arena again, but suddenly comes to a halt in front of their seats, peeling off his helmet, then the medal and handing it with a bright smile to Eggsy. For a moment, as the crowd parts to accommodate them, Eggsy gently placing Daisy back down on her own two feet beside him to accept the medal, he thinks perhaps his little sister may have been onto something: this does seem like the sort of moment where the knight and princess would kiss. Not that he’s a princess or anythin’ of course, but a kiss, yeah that would be nice…

Except that Galahad is pulling back, and offering him a polite and gracious bow instead, and Eggsy does his best not to frown, because well, that’s not quite what he had in mind, but he supposes it’s a rather romantic gesture in its own way.

“Kiss ‘im,” Daisy demands, loudly and unconcerned for anyone around who might also hear her as only small children can be. But evidently the crowd takes to it, and begins chanting for a kiss as well. Galahad flushes a little, looking apprehensive, and Eggsy can feel his own cheeks and ears growing warm with embarrassment, but the hell if he’s going to let the opportunity pass him up. He shrugs with a slight smile curling up at the corner of his mouth, loops the medal around his neck once more, before surging forward, and wrapping one hand gently around the back of the older man’s neck as he presses his lips to his. The knight is still for a moment, before he’s pressing back against him, his tongue swiping softly over the young man’s lips, as his arms briefly wrap around him, and Eggsy’s not quite sure he isn’t dreaming it all, because this is everything he never even knew that he wanted. Eggsy is vaguely aware of Daisy’s cheers behind him, and the applause from a smattering of members of the audience, before he’s slowly pulling back to meet the knight’s gaze.

“We-um,” Galahad stumbles adorable, “We should probably talk,” he offers up, looking a little guilty. Eggsy’s heart drops a little, but really he had all but expected as much.

“We don’t have to,” Eggsy tries shaking his head, steeling himself for the rejection he knows as coming, and maybe just maybe he can avoid it. Maybe if he can convince Galahad, if he says it enough he can even convince himself that this didn’t actually mean anything more than playing it up for the crowd. “Just a bit of a show and fun. Give the people what they want, right,” he shrugs.

“Eggsy,” the older man begins, looking pained, but the younger man is already gathering Daisy up in his arms, preparing to take his leave of the knight and the fair, and the announcer is calling for Galahad to come up and collect his prize before the older man can stop or do anything to come after them.

It was stupid, Eggsy thinks on the bus ride home, and any subsequent times he finds his thoughts drifting back to the fair, to think that someone like Galahad ( _and bloody Christ, he never even learned the man’s real name_ ) would ever fancy, or want something with someone like him. Eggsy does not live in one of those stories. He manages to bribe Daisy with the promise of more flower crowns from the shop if she keeps mum about the kiss, but she does enthusiastically regale their mother with just about everything else about the fair. And if Eggsy seems a little bit out of sorts after their trip, well he can pass it off that he’s tired from the excitement and the long bus rides both ways.

He’s running the flower shop for the day while his boss is out making more orders a week later, when the bell rings announcing a customer’s arrival and he meets a familiar face. Somehow Galahad still manages to look like a knight in armor in his suit, which is definitely not off-the-peg, hugging his body in all the right places, and yeah, Eggsy was dead on, this man is fit as fuck. But he’s also, definitely not interested in him, the young man reminds himself, forcing down the knot forming in his stomach and straightening up, fixing his apron.

“How can I help you-“

“Harry,” the older man interjects.

“Huh?”

“My name, my real one,” he explains. “Harry Hart. And you’re Gary “Eggsy” Unwin.”

“Well you’re probably the best snog I’ve ever had,” Eggsy blurts out, before he’s suddenly clamping a hand over his mouth looking horrified. _Jesus Christ_. “Fuck,” he groans from between his fingers. “I mean-“ he babbles looking once again embarrassed at his outburst, he’s supposed to mind his language around the customers. “Sorry, I… can we just start over,” he pleads, avoiding the other man’s eyes.

“Yes, I rather hoped so,” Harry replies patiently, and Eggsy dares to look up, catching his small and absolutely adorable smile, before it’s sliding away again. “But before we do, it’s probably important to disclose I’m the one that gave you that medal,” the older man continues, with a pointed shrug to the chain that disappears beneath the collar of Eggsy’s shirt. “Many years ago, your father caught something the rest of us missed and saved my life,” he says voice laced with regret. “I realize that might make things a bit awkward, but if you think that’s something you can live with, I would very much like to take you out to dinner, and maybe give snogging you another go.”

‘Snogging’ sounds so strange coming from Harry, and the older man looks so uncharacteristically vulnerable and nervous that for a moment, Eggsy can’t even process the request the man has made of him, simply standing there blinking stupidly back at him.

“Or, not…” Harry replies softly, frowning a little as he back-pedals, clearly thinking he’s misjudged the situation; that perhaps the young man had truly been simply putting a show on for the people at the fair, and Eggsy can’t allow him to think that, not even for a moment more.

“I’d like that,” Eggsy says firmly. “Dinner, and all of it,” he assures him. “But-“

“Yes?" 

“Well, you wouldn’t have to wait until then to snog me again,” Eggsy offers with a small, playful sort of smile. “If you didn’t want to,” he shrugs as if he doesn’t care one way or the other about it, breaking into a grin as the older man chuckles softly, shaking his head.

“Tempting,” Harry admits, taking a step closer and causing Eggsy to draw in a shallow breath. “But you deserve to be romanced, and I would prefer to earn it,” he smiles, drawing his hand into his own and bringing it to his lips, to press a gentle kiss to the back of it. “Perhaps you’ll concede to tea on your lunch, or a drink after work, though? You must have questions, and while I’d be happy to tell you anything and everything I can about Lee, I’d rather he not come between us on our date."

“Yeah,” Eggsy nods, trying to make his lungs work again and reel in the way his stomach is doing somersaults in the wake of the simple gesture of Harry kissing the back of his hand. “Yeah, that sounds good,” he smiles, _more than,_ he thinks to himself as he and Harry go about exchanging numbers and make plans to meet at the local pub after his shift, _it sounds just about perfect_. And maybe, just this once, Eggsy can have a shot at living in one of those kinds of stories...


End file.
